My poetic journey is nearing its seventh year mark. It began as my fingers walked over the keyboard, composing the first entry on my shiny new blog. I was surprised more than anyone when what my eyes saw forming on the screen was more like poetry than prose. I suppose the poetic words that danced in my head as a child were always there inside, but decades of dormancy were ended that day (as I sat with my laptop in a waiting room for jurors). My words have since Whirl’d me on a poetic path through gardens and cyber pubs, down poetic streets and back again. And I will be forever grateful for the friends (nay, family) I’ve met along the way.
by writing even more words ~
my poetry blooms
Shared at Poems of Garden Gnomes
THE WRITE STUFF
type, type, type
And so it goes when
sitting down to a blank
screen. But, that is better than
blankly staring at a piece of
paper, waiting for all the right words.
Because I hate when there are scribble marks.
Shared at Poetic Bloomings – Prompt 182: In The Zone
I wonder if I
can go on.
something to keep words flowing.
Music moves my muse.
Inspired by “Classical Gas” by Mason Williams.
Shared at 1Sojournal for NaPoWriMo – Day 10.
NO BLUE THING
looms. My words spilling
line by line
black on white
syllable by syllable
’til blues fade away.
Inspired by “No Blue Thing” by Ray Lynch.
Shared at 1Sojournal for NaPoWriMo – Day 3.